Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Malice in Wonderland
Okay, so the weekend blog is really overdue as it's Wednesday, but sometime real life aka work gets in the way of these things...
Saturday was great - chilled, sleepy, perfect.
Sunday involved afternoon drinks and early supper at Cuck and Riptorn's, along with Mars and Venus. Needless to say, it was hell. Amazing how you can sit in a beautiful garden, outside a stunning house, with the sounds of children's laughter tinkling in your ears, and still be put in the bad mood from hell. Christ, those people are a bloody nightmare. No-one, repeat no-one, should be made to sit through two hours of a conversation about the relative merits of local schools. Especially not those of us who don't have sodding children. Bloody breeders (gay term, look it up in the Collins Dictionary of Homosexual-Specific Language).
To add insult to injury, He started drinking Stella (the devil's piss, as far as I'm concerned) which always makes Him start uttering innappropriate comments. Such as 'my wife really wants to shag Gordon Ramsey, don't you honey?'*. Enough said I think.
On the plus side, we did have a damn good bitching session once we got home (when I'd drunk enough water to avert cheap-wine-induced upchucking). Actually, that's another thing. Whenever we go over there, we take a decent bottle of wine - which they then put in a cupboard and trot out discusting stuff from a box for me to drink. Cheapskates. Luckily this time I bought them £1.99 dross from Tesco's discount aisle. Hee hee hee. The small victories are sometimes the most satisfying.
*Yes, I do. Please don't ask me to explain though.
Saturday was great - chilled, sleepy, perfect.
Sunday involved afternoon drinks and early supper at Cuck and Riptorn's, along with Mars and Venus. Needless to say, it was hell. Amazing how you can sit in a beautiful garden, outside a stunning house, with the sounds of children's laughter tinkling in your ears, and still be put in the bad mood from hell. Christ, those people are a bloody nightmare. No-one, repeat no-one, should be made to sit through two hours of a conversation about the relative merits of local schools. Especially not those of us who don't have sodding children. Bloody breeders (gay term, look it up in the Collins Dictionary of Homosexual-Specific Language).
To add insult to injury, He started drinking Stella (the devil's piss, as far as I'm concerned) which always makes Him start uttering innappropriate comments. Such as 'my wife really wants to shag Gordon Ramsey, don't you honey?'*. Enough said I think.
On the plus side, we did have a damn good bitching session once we got home (when I'd drunk enough water to avert cheap-wine-induced upchucking). Actually, that's another thing. Whenever we go over there, we take a decent bottle of wine - which they then put in a cupboard and trot out discusting stuff from a box for me to drink. Cheapskates. Luckily this time I bought them £1.99 dross from Tesco's discount aisle. Hee hee hee. The small victories are sometimes the most satisfying.
*Yes, I do. Please don't ask me to explain though.
